


The World's Easiest Kidnapping

by White Aster (white_aster)



Series: Test of Gold [6]
Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-01
Updated: 2007-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dane leaned forward, arms slipping around Edgar's neck, his chin resting on Edgar's shoulder.  "Consider yourself kidnapped."</p><p>"Kidnapped?  That sounds intriguing.  Do I have time in my schedule for kidnapping?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World's Easiest Kidnapping

**Author's Note:**

> This comes a bit later in the Test of Gold series. At this point, Edgar's wife has died, and he and Dane have become a couple.

When he'd been a boy, Edgar Figaro's chocobos had been arch-necked, glossy-coated things that had adored being groomed, loved parades, and, whenever asked to step out into the actual _desert_, had regarded the sand with expressions of distaste so obvious that even Edgar could interpret them. Not much had changed when Edgar had become king. He'd not had much time for riding in the first place, and besides, the foppish King of Figaro who had not a thought in his head past his next fete and his next bedroom escapade would certainly not have been practical enough to demand a steady and reliable mount when a useless but pretty one would do.

He'd had to commandeer chocobos from his guard forces for his and Locke and Terra's grand escape. The idea of running Figaro's Jewel Sand-dancer IV halfway across the desert, let alone leaping onto her shapely and delicate back from a catwalk had been laughable.

Edgar wasn't sure what had happened to the stable after the Ruin. Either the castle's inhabitants had taken the chocobos when they'd fled, or looters had gotten to them. It figured, though, that one of his first state gifts after helping to defeat Kefka had been a stiff-necked, proud warbird from Doman stock. Doma's Crown Golden Warrior III was certainly a step up from Sand-dancer, as he had taken to the desert well enough and Edgar certainly wouldn't want to get on the bad side of the bird's war-training and wicked talons, but Edgar was convinced that an iron chair would have been more comfortable than his stiff-legged gait.

Thus, when Edgar was kidnapped, he was more than happy to leave Golden Warrior behind in favor of a scarred old desert bird that looked like its parents had run wild over the dunes. She'd looked at him doubtfully as he'd saddled her up, rather like an old matron squinting at a possibly-unruly teenager. After a few clumps of good greens, though, she'd warmed enough to him that her gait, when they took off across the sand, was as smooth as if she were running on rails.

"So," he asked cheerfully, when the wind died down and he wasn't likely to get a mouthful of sand, "is the captive allowed to ask where we're going?"

\--------------  


>   
> "You still have these?"
> 
> "Mmr?" Edgar said, intelligently, turning his head in Dane's direction. He squinted. The sunlight was falling across the bed on that side and right into his eyes. When he could see again, he looked over at what Dane was holding. "Oh. I guess I do."
> 
> Dane smiled and traced the worn, faded cloth with thoughtful fingers. Even Edgar had to smile. He had traded his blue velvet for the outfit with a lone trader who'd been holed up with him in Narshe during a snowstorm. It had been travelworn then, something that the old man had picked up on the off chance that it'd catch a few coins for the fabric in Nikeah. The cut of the thing had been good, the material originally of high quality, and Edgar had had to wonder if perhaps some noble had sold it or had it stolen from him. He'd tried not to think too hard on anything but needing something that was less...distinctive before he walked into a pirate's den.
> 
> Not, he thought ruefully, that it'd helped in the end.
> 
> Dane folded the shirt back down into where he'd found it. "Kept it for nostalgia's sake?"
> 
> Edgar yawned and stretched underneath the sheets. He'd kept it because everytime he saw Gerad's clothes tucked into the bottom of his wardrobe, it made him smile in that, "Fuck, how did I not get myself killed?" kind of way. "Something like that." He grinned. "Maybe they're my runaway clothes. For my wild fantasies of running screaming from the castle and never coming back."
> 
> "Heh. I don't blame you. Surprised you haven't done it already."
> 
> "A deplorable and regrettable attachment to duty, I assure you." Edgar contemplated actually getting up and promised himself he'd do it in another few minutes...just another few minutes.... "One of these days I'm going to run away and join the circus."
> 
> Dane fished his pants from off the floor and leaned over to give Edgar a quick kiss, red hair dragging over Edgar's chest, before straightening to put them on. His smile was crooked. "There's a circus around?"
> 
> Edgar snorted and made a face and threw a pillow at him. Well, more accurately, nudged one off the bed so it thumped listlessly over Dane's feet.  
> 

  
\--------------

His captor looked back at him from atop his own chocobo. Unlike Edgar, who was dressed in Gerad's old clothes (they had fit, which was amazing in and of itself, now that he wasn't having to walk all over the world on a regular basis) which screamed "threadbare down-and-out nobility", said captor looked like roughly half the population of the Figaro Desert. Shrouded in the nomads' long, layered cloak-coat and headdress that only showed his eyes and a fringe of red bangs, he could have been any one of the nomads that still wandered the desert, split and Ruined or not.

Dane just grinned at him. Edgar couldn't see the lower half of his face, but it was easy to read in his eyes. "You'll see...should be just over that ridge."

"Really?" Edgar was surprised. They'd only been riding a few hours, and he'd expected his kidnapping to be taking him further, for some reason.

"Yep. You kidding? Someone once made me promise that when I did this that I make sure you could get back easily if you needed to. So, you get the short kidnapping."

Edgar barked a laugh, and his chocobo turned her head to glare at him, not even breaking stride in the process. "Did this someone happen to be very good with either knives or his fists?"

"How did you guess?"

\--------------  


> To: Shadow  
> Kidnapping the King. Bringing all the knives. Will be back next week. XOXO, Dane
> 
> To: Dane  
> Good. We won't wait up. Don't get arrested. --S. &amp; S.  
> 

  
\--------------

They topped the rise just around sunset, as the light was turning gold and crimson in preparation for dipping behind the horizon. The valley below them was settled in a rocky basin, torchlight just beginning to bloom in the streets. It was more permanent than a nomad camp, with sturdy adobe and sandstone buildings, and Edgar had to think a moment before he recognized it. "This is...Four Wells?"

"Mmhmm," was the reply, as Dane twisted in his seat to fiddle with something in the saddlebags.

Edgar just smiled. No wonder he recognized it. Four Wells had been a waystation for the main road across the old Figaro Desert, a trading post and center of commerce and incidentally quite pretty, too, with actual stands of hardy desert trees feeding off the high water table. The Figaro family had a place there, which he'd not been in since he was a teen. "We'll be staying at the villa, then?"

Dane faced forward again, tugging his headcloth up around his mouth again as the wind started blowing. "Yes...and no."

Edgar looked over at him. "That's wonderfully vague."

"Well, see, this was one of the few cities in Figaro that didn't have much damage during the Ruin, and the wells were still functional and sweet, so there was a big influx of refugees. The city did what it had to."

Edgar put two and two together and came up with what most would call "theft and/or destruction of crown property". "Let me guess...no villa?"

"Oh, it's still there. Just embarked on a wonderful new career." Dane chuckled as he paced his chocobo around and led the way.

\--------------

> "...prescribes a procedure for the approval of the annual budget insofar as all parties are in agreement on the provisions, addendums, and amendments as put forth in the preceeding quarter's deliberative council and subsequently approved by said council by no less than a three-fifths majority and wherein and forthwith..."
> 
> Sometimes, Edgar enjoyed reading his paperwork aloud.
> 
> "...such as such estimates can be made and approved by a three-fifths majority by the councilmembers or the councilmembers' approved and sworn experts or parties as set forth in Article XII, Section XXV, said experts or parties having knowledge or expertise above and beyond that which could reasonably be expected and which would have bearing on or pertain to said budget or budgetary matters, which may include but are not restricted to appropriations, expenditures, debt incurment or relief..."
> 
> Formal legal language had such a wonderful...FLOW to it. It was almost like singing. It was much more fun to say than read, and he figured that he would understand just as little of it either way.
> 
> "...unless specifically provided otherwise by law, no matter transmitted for a period of council review prior to its taking effect shall be deemed transmitted to the council or the council chairman until all such matters up to and including Provenances III-VX, Rules of Order VIII-XV, Codes I-V of the Budgetary Codes...."
> 
> "You're not even listening to yourself, are you?"
> 
> Edgar turned to look at Dane, who was leaning against the doorway. Edgar shook his head cheerfully and concluded with a little theatrical flair, "...and any standing Budgetary Amendments have been addressed to the councilmembers' and chairman's satisfaction in writing and submitted to the Royal Secretaries Office for formal filing." He thumped the paper down on his desk for emphasis.
> 
> Dane just shook his head in a way that stated that Edgar had finally slipped a gear somewhere important. "What the hell was that?"
> 
> "I have no idea," Edgar said, matter-of-factly. "I stopped paying attention several hours ago. At this point I'm signing things randomly. I think I might have just made a five year old girl and her pig co-mayors of South Figaro."
> 
> "Eh, can't be worse than the pig that's already mayor." Dane pushed away from the door frame just as Edgar fell back into his chair and frowned.
> 
> "...he's not THAT bad, is he? I'd heard that his reforms were fairly intelligent...."
> 
> Dane waved a hand as he walked around behind Edgar's chair and set his hands to working out the kinks from Edgar's shoulders. "They are. He's just an ass."
> 
> "Mmm...MMMM...I see...." Edgar's head lolled forward, and he sighed. "Oh, that's lovely. That's...hssst...."
> 
> "You're keeping rocks in here again," Dane said, rubbing at a particularly stubborn knot under Edgar's left shoulder. His hands were warm and skilled, and he was putting out enough heat that Edgar could feel him like a furnace. Edgar let himself entertain thoughts of other things Dane's hands were talented at. Not that they had time for that sort of thing.
> 
> "Mmm...they keep sneaking in...."
> 
> "Heh. I've a cure for that."
> 
> "Mmmm? Do tell." Well, Edgar thought, maybe they DID have time for that sort of thing...just a quickie, though....
> 
> Dane leaned forward, arms slipping around Edgar's neck, his chin resting on Edgar's shoulder. "Consider yourself kidnapped."
> 
> "Kidnapped? That sounds intriguing. Do I have time in my schedule for kidnapping?"
> 
> "You do now." Dane gave Edgar's ear a brief nip that made Edgar shiver. "Go back to your room and change into what's laid out. Then go down the back stairs and meet me in the stables."
> 
> Edgar turned his head back and looked up to meet Dane's eyes. "You're serious? We're doing this?"
> 
> Dane smiled and dropped a kiss onto Edgar's shoulder before straightening up. "I'm always serious." His smile quirked, because they both knew what a lie that was. "And whether or not we're doing this depends on whether you can get down to the stables without getting ambushed by seneschals or councilors or advisors or busty serving maids." He smiled over his shoulder as he wandered out of the room.
> 
> Edgar, for a long moment, just blinked after him. He looked down at his paper-strewn desk. Then he bolted for the door.  
> 

\--------------

The people of Four Wells had moved into the villa.

Well, more precisely, it looked as if the refugees had moved into the villa and just stayed to make it their home. Not that Edgar could blame them. The place was rather ridiculously huge, if he recalled correctly, and HE certainly hadn't been using it at the time. Children played in the courtyards, dogs jumping and nipping playfully at their heels. Women were chatting as they finished up their washing in the now-more-functional-than-decorative fountains. The kitchen garden had been expanded several times over, and neat rows of something Edgar assumed produced something edible was rustling in the wind as they passed, punctuated by the scrape and thwack of hoes and shovels from several people backbent, lengthening a few of the rows closer to the villa wall. They dismounted in the stableyard, and Edgar glanced around, seeing that the forge was still operational and had several smiths bustling in it, the smell of charcoal and the strike of metal on metal floating over the yard. Above what Edgar was rather sure used to be one of the side doors, a makeshift sign with a bed and bottle on it proclaimed the place to be an inn.

Edgar hid his smile in his saddlebags. His ancestors would likely have had a fit, but it was rather hard to be upset about any of it. The people around him bustled to and fro industriously, and there had been a gaggle of children and a litter of wriggling puppies sitting in what used to be the traditional queen's rose garden. And the scent of roasted meat coming, he assumed, from the kitchen, was making his mouth water.

Dane, smiling, caught his eye as they dismounted. "Any objections?"

Edgar laughed. "Of course not. Wait a minute. Is the food any good here?"

"Very good, yes."

"Ah, wonderful, then no, the captive has no objections, no."

They turned their chocobos over to a young girl with a long blonde ponytail. She led the mounts over to the old stables, which looked like they still held their original purpose, though some of the back stalls that had once held prize chocobo stock were now being used for storage.

The door to the inn was open to let in the cooling evening breeze. The electricity appeared to still work, at least enough to light the common room. Edgar wasn't sure that he'd ever been in this part of the villa before its career change, so he had no idea what it'd been before. Perhaps a servants' dining room of some sort, as it had enough room for several long wooden tables and benches and two large fireplaces, each with multiple spits and pots that were producing the mouthwatering aroma that Edgar had noticed. The benches were about half filled with people of all descriptions. Travelworn men and women, laborers, and families all sat next to each other, and the room was lively with the babble of voices.

Some of them glanced in Edgar's direction, and Edgar relaxed when he got nothing more than an unrecognizing, half-curious once-over.

Dane had gone over to talk to a slightly harried but cheerful-looking woman who was directing several of the people replenishing the soup pots. He returned with a key tucked into his pouch and two bowls. He steered his captive over to one of the sideboards, where they filled their own bowls with some of the delicious-smelling stew from a huge iron tureen and took bread, cheese, and a mug of beer apiece to go with it. They sat down to eat, and Edgar watched as people who looked to be residents came in, greeted their friends, and took their own share of the food. Travellers like themselves found one of the servers and gave them a few coins, or dropped their coins in a little box by the sideboard if no one was around.

Dane watched Edgar watching it all and smiled slightly.

"It's a communal dining hall for the residents, then?" Edgar asked.

Dane nodded.

"And it works?" Edgar had always been taught that such arrangements inevitably fell apart into squabbling, undone by mismanagement and people not paying their way.

Dane shrugged. "As well as anything does. They all know each other, know who's not doing so well, who's shirking, who's putting in most of the effort without making a fuss. It works."

Later, several kinds of pies were brought out, filled with sweetmeats and nuts. They took their second beer outside and found a nice spot on one of the garden hills to look up at the stars. Edgar watched as below them the diners left in ones, twos, and groups, heading to what he assumed was their homes in other parts of the villa. It wouldn't have been hard, he could imagine, to turn the place into private homes. One set of personal rooms would have to be more than enough room for a family.

Dane pointed to a row of windows along the side facing them. "Our room's in there, somewhere. No electricity, but one of the nicer ones. Was some kind of special guest suite." He took a swig from his mug and grinned. "Only the best for my captives."

"You're so thoughtful." Edgar tilted his head back to look at the stars. They were wonderfully bright and crisp against the night sky. "Out of curiousity, what's the royal suite being used for?"

"Got subdivided into a couple of shops, I hear."

Edgar snickered, then laughed. "Ah, lovely."

Dane laid back in the scratchy grass. "Have to say that I'm glad you're taking this well. I figured you would, but...."

Edgar fell back as well, then squirmed to get a particularly sharp rock out from under his shoulder. "I have to admit that this is a rather strange place for a kidnapping."

"Well, I had to bring you somewhere that wasn't the castle or South Figaro but was close enough that you could get back. Four Wells was about the only place that fit the bill." Dane propped his arm behind his head. "Well, and I did have a BIT of an ulterior motive."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Well, seems that one of the newly-appointed governors of this district's finally took notice of what's been done to the royal house here and is threatening to turn everyone out and reclaim the place for the crown. Making a stink about it."

Edgar scowled. "Ridiculous. Lord Seretum, you mean?"

"Mmmhmm."

"That old stick in the--" Edgar sighed and blew a breath up at his bangs. "How idiotic. They're making much better use of this place than I ever would. Well, I'll certainly talk to someone about that. You know." He thumped his leg against Dane's. "When my kidnapper returns me." He rolled over to prop himself up on one arm. "When WILL my kidnapper be returning me, by the way?"

Said kidnapper reached up to rub at the back of his neck. "When he gets his ransom paid, of course."

"Mmm...mmmm...and what...mm...would this ransom be?" Edgar's head drooped under the power of talented fingers again.

There was a rustle as Dane leaned up, his breath ghosting across Edgar's lips. "One very relaxed king." His kiss was warm and gentle, then teasing, his teeth nipping at Edgar's bottom lip.

"Mmm...I think I might have one of those around here somewhere," Edgar murmured, leaning down to chase that mouth again. "Mmm...might take me awhile to find him, though."

"Mmm, I was hoping you'd say that," Dane replied, fingers carding through Edgar's hair. "Because this kidnapper was just entertaining himself with thoughts of how he could finally thoroughly ravish his captive without any interruptions."

No advisors, no early meetings, no servants, no obligations. The thought made Edgar nearly dizzy. When WAS the last time they'd had an opportunity to be alone together like that? He couldn't remember. "Then you'd better get your captive to his room before he completely loses control of himself."

"Oh now, I wouldn't want that," Dane said, smirking, as they completely forgot their mugs in the grass and headed back to the villa.

\--------------

Later, in the dark, the captive nuzzled into his kidnapper's shoulder and said, "I think I like this being kidnapped thing. Do you think that I could schedule a few more of these?"

His kidnapper just chuckled and doused the candles without looking at them. "I think that can be arranged."

~End


End file.
